


Armor

by mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkward Sexual Tension, F/M, before the battle of ostagar, lots of armor talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lia Amell has always dreamed of leaving the Circle behind. How could she have known how completely unprepared she is for life outside of Kinloch Hold's walls? All she know is she needs to get out these robes and into some proper armor. If only she knew how to put on the damn thing...</p><p>A bit of Warden/Alistair fluff (with the usual amount of angst and politics because I can’t help myself). Amell being a fish out of water, awkward sexual tension and lots of armor talk. </p><p>Set somewhere in that vague time period before the Battle of Ostagar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armor

With her back to the Quartermaster, Lia nervously opened the little leather pouch in which she kept her money and started counting. It wasn't enough. Of course not. A few silver coins stood out in the little heap of copper but she wasn't even sure if all of them were actual currency. Most of the coins she had found in old boxes and barrels in the Tower's basement. Some of them were rubbed almost completely smooth from time and frequent use – strange rulers' portraits and foreign heraldry all but melted into the metal. Lia had never used money. There had never been any use for it at the Circle. Her little stash of assorted coins was the result of years of exploring every inch of the Tower, collecting everything that might become useful. Never quite losing hope that someday she would get the chance to actually use it.

And now that moment was finally here. And she had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Are you sure I can't help you?” The Quartermaster's booming voice startled her and she almost dropped the bag of coins. She whirled around, clutching the pouch to her chest.

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean yes.” The man lifted one of his bushy eyebrows but Lia could not tell if he was amused or just confused. Behind her some of the Mabari started barking and she flinched at the sound. Everything was just so loud here. Everyone was talking with raised voices or yelling or laughing. There had not been a moment of quiet since she got to Ostagar two days ago. After years of nothing but hushed whispers in the library and silent giggling in the dormitories, the sounds of the King's army were almost deafening.

She realized the Quartermaster was still staring at her. By now her face was probably bright red with embarrassment.

“I need armor,” she finally spat out. She could hear the man taking a deep breath.

“Well, you've certainly come to right place, love.” He took a few steps back and opened up two big wooden chests next to his tent. Lia could see bits of leather and chainmail. None of it looked even vaguely familiar.

“I have money,” she said and spilled some of her little bag's contents into her open palm. “But I don't think it's enough.”

A look of bewildered horror crept onto the Quartermaster's face as he looked at the heap of coins in her hand.

“What the... Is that an Antivan coin? And where the hell did you get old Dwarven coppers?” He stopped when he saw the look on Lia's face.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured and started shoving the coins back into her purse. Ever since she had arrived here, this whole thing had been nothing but a string of embarrassments. She had dreamed of leaving the Circle for years, of living a real life outside of the Tower's walls, only to find that she was completely unprepared for it.

“No, don't be.” The Quartermaster sighed. “I can't take that money. Mostly because I'm not sure if all of that is actual currency. But I can still help you out. Wait here.” He turned around and went into his tent. For a minute, Lia contemplated just leaving. There was still time to ask Duncan or Alistair for help. But she had really wanted to do this on her own. She bit her lower lip and anxiously shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

The Quartermaster emerged from his tent with a big linen sack in his arms. When he sat it down on the ground in front of her, she heard metallic clangor.

“These are mostly scraps of armor,” he said as he opened the sack and started pulling out pieces of leather and mail. “Stuff that doesn't really fit together or needs repairing. Most of it is still good but I can't sell it.”

Lia watched him sort the pieces of armor into two piles. There seemed to be a system behind it but she could not quite follow it. After a few seconds he stopped and looked up.

“Show me your shows, girl,” he said. Lia blushed but lifted her robes a bit to show him her boots. “Yes, those will do.” He got back to sorting armor and Lia smiled proudly. She had stolen the boots from a Templar recruit just before leaving the Circle. They were good, sturdy leather boots and after the first blisters had calloused over they were even quite comfortable. She had tossed the flimsy slippers they wore at the Tower at the first opportunity.

The Quartermaster stood up and handed her the contents of the smaller pile. Lia recognized a chainmail shirt. The rest was leather. As she carefully balanced the pieces in her arms, trying not to drop anything, the Quartermaster went back to his wooden chests.

“You're a mage so you don't really need full armor like the other Grey Wardens. But you still need to be protected.” He looked her up and down. “Are those robes all you own? Do you have pants? Shirts?”

Lia could feel her face heating up again as she shook her head and tried to distribute the weight in her arms more evenly. The chainmail in particular was a lot heavier than she had expected. The Quartermaster sighed once more and started digging in one of his chests. He pulled out a pair of leather trousers and two linen shirts and added them to the pile in Lia's arms.

“I don't... I have no money,” she stuttered. Then she remembered. “But I have a ring! A silver ring from the Circle. Let me just put this down...”

The Quartermaster held up both his hands in protest.

“You keep that ring, girl,” he said, his voice suddenly softer. “And I don't want your strange coins either. You just go out there and kill some Darkspawn in my name.” He smiled.

“I don't even know your name.”

He let out a bark of laughter but she did not jump this time.

“It's Benn. You just remember that when you kill those bastards and then we're even.”

A wave of gratitude washed over her as she nodded and clutched the armor closer to her.

“I don't know what to say. Thank you, Benn. I will not forget this.”

The man seemed almost flustered by her words and he sent her on her way with a wave of his hand.

“You better go and try on that armor now. You should get used to weight before the battle.”

 

* * *

 

Back at the tent she shared with three other women from the King's Army, Lia took a closer look at the items Benn had given her. The tent was large enough to stand in and Lia paced a few steps back and forth as she examined the armor she had spread out on her bedroll. Apart from the chainmail shirt, the armor consisted mostly of different sized pieces of leather and straps. She thought she had at least a vague idea of how they all fit together but she was not sure. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

With an annoyed groan she began stripping her clothes. She knew the straps and laces of a mage's robe like her own body. She could not remember ever wearing anything else. But she yanked the fabric from her body with force now. No more robes for her. No more uniform Circle colors and long sleeves and no more ridiculous cowls. When she had taken off the final piece of clothing, she tossed the whole bundle into the tent's corner where it lay in a heap of crumpled orange and teal. Panting she stood in the middle of the tent just in her breastband and smallclothes, the cool air already nipping at her exposed skin.

The easy things first. The linen shirt was a bit large but the material was clean and thick enough to shield her against the cold and against any pinching from the rest of the armor. The pants, however, fit perfectly. As she was lacing up her boots again, she couldn't help but smile. She could honestly not remember the last time she had worn pants. Perhaps this was the first time. She ran her hands over the surprisingly soft material once more before picking up the chainmail shirt from her bedroll. It was still heavy but Lia marveled at the delicacy of the hundreds of small, shiny links. It was almost beautiful. It did seem a bit small and too short for a man, however, so she assumed that was the reason why Benn was not able to sell it. There were not many other women in the camp and those who were seemed too well equipped to need Benn's services.

Lia tried to put on the chainmail put the tiny links caught in her hair. When she finally managed to free herself, she was sweaty and her thick blonde hair had come undone from its bun. With a curse she pushed it out of her face. That was the next thing she would have to take care of. She would not miss the long tresses once they were gone.

The weight of the chainmail was still impressive but it distributed more evenly now. She would have to get used to it but she did not think it would be much of a problem. The rest of the armor was a different matter. After a few minutes of trying and turning, she had figured out which parts belonged to the front and which to the back. She connected the leather breastplate and the back piece with buckles and put them on over the chainmail. They fit but there were more buckles at the sides which she could not reach on her own. After another few minutes of twisting her upper body, she gave up. With an annoyed sigh she pushed the hair out of her face where it clung to her sweaty forehead. How was she ever supposed to fight a Darkspawn army if she could not even put on her own armor?

“Do you need help?”

At the sound of the voice she whirled around to find Alistair standing in the entrance of her tent. He looked about as embarrassed as she felt.

“Maker!” she exclaimed and quickly crossed her arms over her chest as if it wasn't protected by several layers of armor. “You can't just come in here! I could have been...” She stopped herself, blood rising in her cheeks.

“I am so sorry,” Alistair muttered as he stumbled back out of the tent. “I was just looking for you.” He looked so distraught that Lia immediately felt bad for yelling at him.

“Please!” she called out and he stopped dead in his tracks. “It's alright. I just... I think I need your help.” He re-entered the tent and lifted an eyebrow.

“I can see that,” he said as he looked at her and her pitiful armor. She rolled her eyes, the embarrassment slowly falling from her. If she had to ask someone for help, she was glad that it was Alistair. He would make jokes but he was not unkind. She felt less anxious when she could banter with him.

“I've never worn armor before,” she explained as he stepped closer. In the confined space of the tent he seemed even taller than usual.

“Again, I can see that.” The smirk she had come to know on his lips had returned. She shrugged theatrically.

“Not really much need for chainmail at the Circle.”

“Really?” he asked, fake surprise comically written all over his face. “From the things I've heard, you mages are into some really weird stuff.”

She rolled her eyes again and swatted him on the arm. “Well, that must have been the one kink we skipped at the Kinloch Hold.”

He was closer now, towering over her. The thought came to her too fast to stop it. _We have never been alone like this._ That was nonsense, of course. They had been alone the first they met. But somehow this was different. He seemed to sense it too. The smirk was gone from his face and a light flush had risen in his cheeks.

“Turn around,” he said. “I'll fasten those buckles for you.” She turned around, glad to hide her blushing face from him. For a few seconds nothing happened. As if he was unsure how proceed.

Then he brushed her hair aside and as his fingers lightly touched the base of her neck, she could feel a shiver running down her spine. If he felt her stiffen underneath his touch, he did not let her know. Instead he started undoing one of the buckles on her shoulder.

“This one's twisted,” he explained, his voice softer than she had heard it until now.

“Oh,” was all she could breathe without breaking her concentration. She was suddenly very aware of her body. Of his body behind her. His hands on her. The last time she had been this close to a man had been at the Circle. Kissing Cary in the library. She bit her lip, hard enough to almost draw blood, to snap out of it. She could _not_ be thinking about kissing right now.

“Done,” Alistair said. “Do you want me to do those on the sides as well?” She nodded and lifted her arms to give him better access.

“Is this okay?” she asked, proud that her voice sounded almost steady.

“Er, it's easier from the front,” he mumbled and circled around her. She tried to keep her gaze straight ahead. There was no chance that he had not noticed her bright red face. This was getting more mortifying by the minute. Alistair bent down slightly and started fastening the buckles on her side with practiced hands.

“You could have just kept wearing your robes. I think the other mages will as well,” he said and looked up to her.

She shook her head, a bit to forcefully perhaps.

“No,” she said. “I could not stand to wear them for one more second. Too many memories. That's not my life anymore.” It was more personal information than she had intended to share but to her relief Alistair did not make a joke. When she peered down at his face she found something like recognition in his eyes. Perhaps even understanding.

“I know that feeling,” he said, his hands temporarily holding still. “When I joined the Grey Wardens they let me keep the sword the Templars had given me. I threw it into a lake the next day.”

They shared a smile. For a few seconds none of them said a word. The air between them suddenly thick with expectation. He was so close that even in the dim light of the tent she could have counted all his freckles. When she finally broke eye contact, he cleared his throat and continued to work on the armor.

“This is good armor,” he said, a bit too loudly. “I mean, a bit cobbled together, but I've seen worse.”

“The Quartermaster gave it to me. I think he felt sorry for me. But he was very nice.”

Alistair nodded. “Yeah, Benn's a good man. And with this you might actually be able to withstand a few blows.” He patted the boiled leather on her shoulder.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence...”

“You know I'm always here for moral support,” he grinned. Lia laughed. It was easy with him, the awkward moment from before almost forgotten. Almost.

He fastened the last buckle. His fingers lingered on her side for just one more second and her breath caught in her throat. Then he pulled away and stepped back.

“All done,” he pronounced. There was no looking glass anywhere in camp so Lia had to be content with what little she could see from looking down her own body.

“I feel... bulkier,” she said as she run her hands down her sides.

“Well, you look bulkier.”

“Gee, thanks, Alistair.” But she smiled when she saw his mortified expression.

“Tha- That's not what I meant to say,” he stuttered but she stopped him with a wave of her hand. No need to torture the poor guy now.

“I still have those,” she said and motioned towards her bedroll where the last two pieces of armor lay. Before she could even move, Alistair had bent down to pick them up. Perhaps so she wouldn't see how red his face had become this time. When he straightened back up, he seemed to have calmed down.

“Vambraces,” he explained. “These go on your arms.” She nodded and reached out to take them from him but instead he caught her hand in one swift motion. She gasped in surprise.

“I can do that myself,” she began to protest but he was already busy putting the vambraces on her forearm. They had buckles as well and he began fastening them.

“Too tight?” he asked and she shook her head. For the second time today, she was strangely aware of his hands on her body. The skin of her fingers prickling where his had brushed against them. “It's easier if you don't open the buckles all the way when you take them off. Just loosen them and slip out.” His eyes were fixed on his work and Lia wondered if he was avoiding looking at her directly on purpose. She could not be the only one feeling this strange atmosphere, could she?

When he was done with both arms, he took a step back again and looked her up and down.

“You look like a proper Grey Warden now.”

She smiled at him brightly. “Maybe next time I won't even need your help to put all this on.”

He made an exaggerated show of taking a bow. “Always happy to be your manservant, Lady Amell.”

She laughed and walked over to the corner into which she had tossed her old robes. It was still a bit strange to walk around in armor, although she had already started to get used to the weight of the chainmail. She picked up her old clothes and turned around.

“If that's the case I have another favor to ask of you. Help me find a nice, big fire. I have some things to burn.”

 


End file.
